Page 2 of Musical Games
‘What?’
‘That song you were singing.’
She sucked in a breath. It was like he’d caught her watching porn. ‘It’s nothing.' This was ridiculous. Fuck, she’d be less embarrassed if ithadbeen porn. ‘Just a friend of a friend messing about.’
‘Well, it gave me goosebumps.’ He raised a tattooed arm from the steering wheel. ‘See? And you’ve got a lovely voice, too. Beautiful.’
Sam huffed a laugh as she looked out the window, then checked her watch. She was early. ‘Actually, Stan, can you drop me here?’
‘No problem, darling.’ He signalled and pulled over. Sam rammed her feet back into her heels and manoeuvred with practiced grace out of the car.
‘Thanks, Stan, see you soon.’
He gave her a wave over his shoulder as he drove away.
Sam gazedat the huge red-brick Victorian facade of the Royal Marsden Hospital. Standing at the bottom of the stone steps leading up to the main doors, she felt small and inadequate. A familiar knot of tension coiled tighter in her stomach. She deliberately let out a long, slow breath, flexed her fingers and pulled out her phone. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d reached out to her oldest sister or spoken to her outside of family get-togethers. The call connected.
‘Esther Adamson.’
‘It’s me. Sam.’
She could hear her sister speaking hurriedly to other people in the background, then her attention was back. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Sam replied. ‘I had a minor head wound earlier from some cheap earrings, but—’
‘Head wound? You’ve been checked over? Vision okay? Slurred speech? What happened?’
‘Shit, no, I’m fine. I just got my hair caught in Loz’s earring, that’s all.’
‘Jesus, Sam.’ Her sister let out a loud breath. ‘Don’t do that to me.’
Fuck.
‘So, you’re okay?’
‘Yep, all A-okay,’ Sam replied brightly, squatting on the step and resting her forehead on her free hand. She chewed her bottom lip as she listened to her sister talking to others, the noises of feet running and doors slamming.
‘Look,’ Esther continued, ‘I was meant to be finishing a twelve-hour shift, but there’s been a serious traffic accident so I’m going back into surgery. Can I call you later? Where are you?’
‘I’m still on set. You know, busy, busy.’ Sam rolled her eyes at herself. ‘Sure, call me—’ The noises from her sister’s end of the line stopped. Sam looked at her phone, then dropped it into her bag.Way to go, Smulan...
‘Oy, oy, Bethany!’
Sam stood, the smile already fixed back on her face. She saluted two men as they ambled past carrying takeout coffees.
‘Fancy a quickie?’
Her smile froze. ‘Not today, gentlemen, it’s my day off.’ She walked briskly in the opposite direction, her arm raised to hail a taxi. Just because her character put out to half the street didn’t mean she did.
Half an hour later,Sam was in Soho being shown into her agent’s office. Sandra Billings was in her sixties. She’d been there, done it, and had the photos and the gravelly voice to prove it. The walls were covered in black-and-white headshots of her clients and press shots of them holding awards. Each was signed with a gushing message thanking Sandra for their success. Sam looked at her own, remembering how excited she’d been to land the part of Bethany onElm Tree Lane. Yet now, less than a year after being on the soap, she wanted more.
Sandra pulled Sam in for a kiss, then gestured for her to sit on the other side of her desk as she reached for a chrome and diamanté e-cigarette. Sandra sucked deeply on it, accentuating the lines around her mouth, then exhaled a plume of sickly sweet vapour. Sam hated the smell of cigarettes, but this was worse. It was as if someone high on ecstasy and unicorns had staggered into a lab and instructed a minion to mix as many E numbers as they could until they came up with the smell of pink. The stench from the real cigarettes Sandra used to smoke had seeped into every piece of furniture. It was now in a three-way fight for supremacy with the cloying vape and the heavy punch of Cacharel’s Lou Lou that Sandra had been marinating in since the eighties. No matter how many painkillers Sam popped in preparation before a meeting, she always left with a headache.
As they exchanged pleasantries, Sam tried to stay calm. Sandra’s secretary had called her in for the meeting with the promise of ‘something big’, and her imagination had been running wild with possibilities. Eventually Sandra put her vape to one side and leaned forward.
‘Right, love, I’ve got you the biggie.’
‘Strictly?’
